


A Picture is Worth 1000 Words

by supersinger472



Category: Deadly Premonition | Red Seeds Profile
Genre: AU where every mistake I make is actually the truth, Alternate Universe, Brothers AU, Canon-Typical Violence, George dies AU, Multi, Thomas runs a bakery AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 08:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersinger472/pseuds/supersinger472
Summary: When top FBI agent Francis York Morgan goes missing mysteriously, it’s up to his brother and partner, Zach, to travel to the small, sleepy town of Greenvale to track him down and deal with the unusual inhabitants, many of whom hold dark secrets lurking just below their smiling surfaces.





	1. I Need to Know

It was early in the morning when the phone rang, the generic chime of an unknown number. The sound shook Zach Morgan from his slumber and he laid with his face in the pillow for the longest second of his life, debating whether helping a stranger was really worth waking up completely. 

Perhaps if he’d simply ignored the call, things wouldn’t have ended the way they did.

Eventually, the desire to stop the phone from ringing won out, and Zach groped around on the bedside table to grab his phone. He lifted his head and squinted at the ugly green numbers on his alarm clock, 1:37 AM, way too early to be woken up by a phone call from a stranger. As Zach lifted the phone to his ear he noted the area code, definitely from out of state, unless he was getting calls from drunk tourists. He cleared his throat and answered the call, his voice still rough from sleep; he licked his lips to try to coax some moisture into his mouth, but it didn’t help. “Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Agent Zach Morgan with the FBI?” The voice on the other end of the line was female and young, and while she sounded tired, she didn’t seem like she’d just been woken up by a rude stranger in the middle of the night.

Zach scraped his free hand over his face and nodded. “Yes, this is him. Who’s speaking?” Perfect, the proper phone etiquette his grandparents had drilled into him hadn’t flown completely out the window.

“I’m Emily Wyatt, Officer Emily Wyatt. I work for the Greenvale Police Department.”

The inflection of her voice held expectation, like Zach was supposed to know who she was and where Greenvale was based on just a few words. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of you. Sorry,” he added limply.

“Oh, no it’s fine, I wouldn’t expect a big city FBI agent to have heard of a small town like Greenvale. Do you know an Agent Francis York Morgan? Goes by York?”

“Yes I do, he’s my partner at the agency.” Zach would wait a little bit more before telling this stranger claiming to be a police officer that they were brothers as well.

“Good! Then I’ve got the right number,” Emily sounded relieved. “You see, York was doing some consulting with me on a case recently…” there was another pregnant pause, another thing she clearly expected Zach to know that he didn’t.

“Agent Morgan wasn’t assigned to do consultation work,” he said with a bit of a snap in his voice. Zach took a breath and tried again, it wasn’t completely Emily’s fault that Zach was tired and irritated that York was running around giving strange women his phone number. “That is, he told everyone he was on vacation.”

“Really? Because he told me that the FBI had sent him specifically to help the GPD after what happened.”

Zach slowly sat up and swung his legs off the bed, shivering a bit as he left his warm cocoon of blankets. “Well he clearly lied to at least one of us, and I have a feeling it was both. Why don’t you hold on while I get some coffee and I’ll call you back and we can go through what happened?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just be, um, waiting. Right here.”

“Great.” Zach hung up the phone and stood up, stretching as he stuffed his feet into bunny slippers. 

 

In the kitchen, still in just his boxers and slippers, Zach sat down at the small dining table and took a long sip of his coffee, sighing happily as the pure taste of the dark roasted beans flowed across his tongue. Then he took a bite of his breakfast fruit salad and steeled himself to call Emily back. “Officer Wyatt? It’s Agent Morgan.”

“Hi Agent Morgan,” Emily yawned, it seemed like as Zach was waking up she just got more tired, which made sense, since Emily had probably been up all night, rather than fast asleep like Zach was. “Huh, funny, you and York have the same last name.” She laughed, “do you two introduce yourselves as Agents Morgans?”

A small smile crossed Zach’s face and he said with good humor, “not as such, no. If you don’t mind, could you tell me a little bit about what York was doing in Greenvale?”

“He told me the FBI had sent him, which I thought it was fortunate to have another head in the game after what happened.”

“And what did happen? You’ve been dancing around it all, uh, morning.” Zach glanced at the clock and took another sip of coffee.

“The town sheriff was murdered, York said it was standard procedure to send an FBI agent to investigate when such a high-ranking official is murdered, that it might be a sign of cult activity like in that one movie The Void?”

“It’s a little bit like that, York and I watched it together. A cult traps a police officer and all the patients and doctors inside a hospital. The hospital turns out to be a gateway for a tentacled evil, truly fascinating. Anyway, it’s not exactly standard procedure to send an agent when a civil servant like the sheriff is murdered, but it’s not unheard of either. But to be frank with you, Officer Wyatt, York didn’t tell anyone he’d be going out to Greenvale to investigate a murder, he told us he was taking a short vacation out to the countryside.”

“Oh my god, he really did lie to both of us.”

“I don’t want to alarm you though, York is a good guy, if he lied, he probably had a really good reason, so I think he was honestly investigating the murder of your sheriff…”

“Woodman, George Woodman.”

“Right, sheriff Woodman.” Zach took a sip of coffee to collect his thoughts. “So, York was consulting on the case without FBI knowledge, what happened then?”

“Well that’s the thing, York didn’t really get a chance to consult on the case. He disappeared the day after he got into town.”

Zach dropped his fork, “he did what? Officer Wyatt, don’t you think you should have led with that from the start?” There was a ringing in his ears, and he had to clutch at his phone to keep it from slipping out of his fingers. York couldn’t just be gone, it didn’t fit in with the way Zach knew the world worked. It was always supposed to be York and Zach, Zach and York, from the moment they were born, there was no way half of that equation could just be erased, like tearing a photo in half or wiping a chalkboard.

“Agent Morgan? Agent Morgan?” It took him a long while to realize Emily was still talking. “Agent Morgan are you still there?”

Zach took a sip of coffee and tried to still his panicked breathing, but his hands were still trembling violently. “I’m here,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this sooner, I had a plan to tell you first thing but the moment passed and I was struggling to find another way to bring it up. I’m sorry.” She tacked it onto the end of the sentence half-heartedly, like she knew it wouldn’t make things better.

Zach sighed, “it’s, it’s okay. But that means this is definitely an FBI matter.”

“I understand completely.”

“Good. I have some calls to make, do you mind waiting for a little bit? This is definitely an emergency, but I’ll be more use to the case if I try to get some sleep and wait for morning to make those calls.”

“Are you sure? Can’t you get them on this sooner?” Her voice was slightly scolding.

“That’s the FBI for you, Officer Wyatt.”

“Well York made calls at all kinds of odd hours.”

“The things that York can do and the things that ordinary people can do are very different.”

There was a long pause, “I would argue, but you’re honestly right,” there was a laugh in her voice as she said it. “Go ahead, Agent Morgan, take all the time you need.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Officer Wyatt, I’ll probably be talking to you again very soon.”

“Goodbye Agent Morgan.”

Zach hung up first and dropped his phone on the table, he buried his face in his hands and let out a long groan, roughly scrubbing at his face. He slumped back in his chair and rubbed his stomach, staring into the middle distance as he sipped his coffee. He knew his mind should be working overtime trying to piece together the mystery of why York lied and where he disappeared to and what made a sheriff named George Woodman so special but his mind was like a cup knocked on its side and every time he tried to make it work for its purpose he just made a bigger mess, every thought slipping out before he had a chance to think it.

“Sugar, sugar will help…” he muttered, taking his cup of coffee and walking into the kitchen. He pulled the fridge open and crouched down in front of him, shoving aside the fresh fruits and vegetables he’d bought and York’s leftover takeout to reach a small pink box from a local bakery.

By the time he’d shoved half the cream puff into his mouth, Zach’s brain lurched into action, filling up with plans and making what connections he could, even if so far it was just a shoddily made triangle of Zach, York, and Emily, with the dead sheriff at its center. Zach swallowed the cream puff and licked his fingers clean, taking a bite of the last cream puff in the box. From where he stood he could see his phone on the table and the clock on the wall ticking away at half past two in the morning.

On impulse, Zach strode back over to the table, still hugging the box to his chest, and picked up his phone. Before he lost his nerve, he tapped in the familiar number of his supervisor. Maybe in order to find York, Zach would need to act a bit more like him.  
 


	2. Welcome Back to Greenvale

Early the next morning, though not before dawn early, thankfully, Zach found himself parked in a rental car outside the squat wooden building of the Greenvale Sheriff’s Department. His supervisor had been surprisingly willing to allow Zach to fly out to the Pacific Northwest to track down York. Perhaps York’s bad habit of calling people while they were asleep was actually a clever ploy; it was incredibly easy to get someone to agree to something if it meant you’d stop talking to them and let them go back to sleep. The whole process had been so easy it had afforded Zach almost no time to worry about York. But now, sitting in a rental car in front of a small town police station, the kind of moment Zach and York had experienced dozens of times together, Zach was aware of just how empty the car was without his partner sitting beside him, smoking out the window and talking about what movies he wanted to watch together.

Zach shook his head to clear it and swung the door open, checking his pockets and zipping up his winter coat over his ‘I am FBI’ shirt, a joke gift from a colleague that Zach genuinely liked. He placed his feet carefully as he walked up the slush covered steps of the police station and pushed the door open.

 

The bustle of the police station, about a dozen police officers that Zach could tell just by looking at them had no impact on the case-vegetables as York would call them, because York lacked tact like that-turned to look at him. Zach pushed down the childhood habit of rubbing the large scar on the side of his face or running his hand through his snow white hair, and he realized just how naked he felt without York there to draw half the crowd’s attention with his outlandish suits. Instead, he slapped his hands over his pockets and stepped through the bull pen to the break room where he and Emily were supposed to meet, Zach would finally put a face to the voice and name that had shook up his life, though he knew it was unreasonable to blame Emily for the actions of a criminal, it was a ‘shoot the messenger’ attitude that wouldn’t do him any good if they were to work together on two cases at once.

The break room was empty except for a tall blonde woman in a police uniform, sipping coffee and nibbling on a donut as she leaned against the counter. When Zach stepped into the room she set her breakfast down and walked over to him, stretching her hand out to shake. “Agent Morgan?” 

Zach gave her hand a brief, firm shake and dropped her hand as soon as was proper, he didn’t like touching people needlessly, it made him uncomfortable, like touching a cheap blanket, like his whole being was one raw nerve that needed to be insulated. He’d brought it up with York once when they were kids, and York had told him there were certain clothes he couldn’t wear because they felt like they were scratching his skin off. Working for the FBI had been a boon to the both of them, York could cycle through wearing the same ten suits that felt good to wear, and no one expected Zach to be touchy-feely when he was investigating murders.

“I’m Agent Zach Morgan, yes.” He flashed his badge and quickly tucked it away. “You must be Officer Wyatt.”

“Just Emily is fine, it’s what most people in town call me, you know small towns.” She twisted her lips into a forced smile. “How was the trip over?”

“It was fine, I’m glad the snow didn’t hit until after the plane took off or I might never have made it.” Outside the window of the police station snow covered a row of police cars and obscured their markings like burial shrouds. 

“Right. Would you like to take a seat?” Emily gestured at the large meeting table at the far end of the room.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stand.” Zach smiled and rubbed his back, “it was a long drive out here and I didn’t make many stops. I’ll take coffee if you have any though.”

Emily nodded and stepped aside for Zach to pour himself a cup from the machine. “Yeah, there’s not a lot of places to pull over between here and the nearest big city, but I like to think of that as part of Greenvale’s charm. All the amenities of civilization with none of the crowding.”

Zach took a sip and grimaced, “who made this coffee? It tastes worse than instant.” He set his mug down and started ripping open sugar packets to dump inside, stacking up the husks in a line on the counter.

Emily planted her hands on her hips, “I’ll have you know that I made the coffee, so I’m sorry it’s not up to your worldly standards, we don’t exactly get the same quality of coffee out here in the boonies.”

Zach took another sip and poured one last packet of sugar in before he was willing to actually drink it. “Good beans are just the starting point of good coffee, just like good ingredients are the start of a good meal, or intelligence is the start of a good officer.” Zach winced internally as the words left him, realizing a moment too late that his comment sounded insulting. “That is, technique and hard work is what sets the merely ‘talented’ apart from the truly great.” Zach could tell from Emily’s expression that she wasn’t mollified, so he decided to place that comment in the ‘lose’ column and press on. “Who’s going to be the new sheriff,” he asked, hoping reminding Emily of why he came here would make her more accepting of his city mouse faux pas.

Emily looked down into her mug of coffee, her expression sobered by the change of subject. “George had protocols in place to name me interim sheriff in the event of his sudden death.”

“And the mayor doesn’t mind?

“Greenvale doesn’t have a mayor. After the lumber bubble popped, it was incorporated into the nearby city. They send an auditor every quarter but for the most part Greenvale runs itself.”

Zach nodded and picked out a donut from the nearby box. It had a squirrel on the lid and said ‘MacLaine Bakery’ in bold letters. He examined the donut, turning Greenvale’s unusual situation over in his head. The donut was perfectly round and dusted in powdered sugar and cinnamon, a plain, simple, donut, but the instant he took a bite all thoughts of the donut being plain flew out of his head. The exterior had a thin crust that quickly gave way to sweet, fluffy dough, and rich chocolate cream with a powerful kick of chili pepper flooded his mouth. “Emily!” He said, his eyes agape. “This donut is amazing! The crust and the filling have a perfect ratio and the cinnamon sugar matches them with just the right hint of sweetness!”

Emily’s smile was smug, “that’s MacLaine Bakery for you, Greenvale’s pride and joy. Prettyy much everyone in town eats breakfast there, just like they go to the A&G Diner for lunch, the Milk Barn to pick up dinner and either the Swery 65 or the Galaxy of Terror for drinks.” Emily grimaced as she said the last.

Zach inhaled the donut and filed the names away, popular gathering places were always some of the best places to go to gather information, especially if you were looking for information on world shaking events like the murder of a community leader or the arrival of someone as bold as York, least of all because of the suits he wore. “So that’s where people hang out, where do people who are new in town sleep?”

Emily’s brow furrowed in thought before she suddenly snapped her fingers, “that’s right! The Great Deer Yard Hotel!”

“Deer…Yard?” What a strange name for a hotel.

“It’s the only hotel in town actually, but we don’t get many tourists so it spends a lot of time empty. A few regulars pop into town often enough that I guess they keep it open. Still, it’s kind of sad, because it used to be a mom and pop operation until one of the owners died. Now it’s just Polly all alone in that massive place.”

Zach’s mind was starting to compile lists, two big ones held priority now. One was leads on where York was, that hotel had been moved to priority one on that list. The other list was leads on the sheriff’s murder, that one he would approach more methodically, follow a logical order; first check the body, it would be either in the police station or the hospital. Next step would be locating and investigating the scene of the crime. As he did both of those things, he’d probe and interrogate the people of the town, compiling them into suspects and bystanders, which didn’t mean he’d leave the bystanders alone, Zach would leave the suspects to become complacent while he pounded the bystanders for more information, then he’d hit the suspects with his information and see which one cracked. It was an adapted version of his and York’s typical investigation strategies. While Zach gathered and sorted information, York would rely on profiling and flashes of information that often blew the case wide open. Zach would set up the dominoes and York would knock them down. He could only hope that he could make up for York’s-hopefully temporary-absence by doubling down on what he was good at.

“Agent Morgan?” Emily said hesitantly, “you in there?”

Zach snapped out of his thoughts, “sorry Emily, I sometimes get lost in thought.”

“Happens to all of us, do you have any idea of where to begin the investigation?”

“A few. Do you know how long ago sheriff Woodman was killed?”

“Yeah, of course I remember, it was a little over a week ago now. The Ingram twins, Isaach and Isaiah, were walking through the woods with their grandpa when they stumbled across George’s body.” 

“Do you have pictures of the crime scene I can look at?”

“Absolutely, they’re in the file room along with the kids’ report.” Emily pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket, each one painted a different color with nail polish, a very utilitarian move, just the sort of thing Zach was coming to expect from Emily.

 

A few minutes later Zach was sitting at the break room table with a three-ring binder in front of him that contained a stack of photos and a single sheet of paper. Zach pulled the photos out first, looking at them without reading the report would allow him to form an unbiased opinion.

The first photo was of a large, snow filled clearing deep in the woods somewhere. The picture was framed so that a large tree took up the majority of the right half of the photo, and across the clearing was a fallen log that was suspiciously clean of snow. Zach made a note of it and flipped to the next picture. Seeing this one, it was obvious why the photographer had taken the last one from such an awkward angle. Strung up in the tree was a shirtless, middle-aged man, his eyes were empty red holes in his face, staring into a world of horrors judging by the expression on the remains of his face. His mouth gaped open and bloody drool formed a beard to go with his handlebar mustache. Because he was shirtless, Zach could see the cuts and slashes spread all over his chest. Some kind of towel or sheet was wrapped around the man’s waist and preserved a little bit of his dignity.

Emily peaked over Zach’s shoulder and a look of horror passed over her face when she saw the man’s injuries. “I’ve seen them in person but…God, it’s horrible. Who would do that to the sheriff?”

So, the man in the tree was the sheriff, George Woodman. Zach figured as much but it was good to have confirmation. The remainder of the photos were closeups of the injuries all over the sheriff, Zach was no profiler, but he felt like they were either the results of a very angry person or some bizarre ritual, though with the things Zach had seen in his line of work, he wouldn’t discount it being both. The last one was interesting because a white snake had wrapped itself around the sheriff and was staring straight at the camera. Zach felt compelled to consider it an omen, but of what he didn’t know.

He finished going through the photos and picked up the single sheet of paper, it had the statements from the kids who had discovered George’s body and their grandfather, who was apparently a forest ranger, that could be useful depending on how deep in the woods the body was hidden. The twins apparently didn’t realize exactly what they had stumbled across, as their statement referred to George as being a ‘forest god.’ Zach wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It seemed to him that lying to children about death only caused problems down the road; as a child, Zach and York had passed near death in many definitions of the word, from their father killing their mother and attacking Zach when he was barely a child, to watching the slow slip of their grandparents into death when they were young men. Finally there was York and Zach’s job, being FBI agents, which not only brought them face to face with death but also forced them to face down those who would inflict death upon others, and once, made them become the deliverers of death.

Zach sipped his coffee to wash away the darkness that thinking about his childhood always brought on. The reports were useless, which Zach didn’t mind, the cops of Greenvale were most likely used to questioning teens going on joyrides, not investigating murders. He’d know the right questions to ask the three of them to get them talking about what they saw in that clearing.

Zach stood up and packed the report and photos away. “Emily, do you think we could go to the hotel first? I’d like to see what York left there.”

“Right now?” Emily seemed a bit perplexed, but she stood and pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “Sure, I’ll drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a kudos and a comment if you support George getting his eyes pecked out by birds, w00t, etc.
> 
> Follow me at mpregnateyourocs.tumblr.com or @SweenMaxine on twitter.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to like comment and subscribe FBI! Follow my tumblr at mpregnateyourocs.tumblr.com and my twitter @SweenMaxine.


End file.
